Trickling glacier, snow capped mountains.
Cold, pure waters I evolve thousands of feet
above the horizon.
Slowly descending over rock, gravel
etching through the earth as momentum accelerates.
Weaving, twisting, turning….
Air thin, skies above the brightest of blues.
Of centuries I’ve chiseled, sculpted stone.
Within my depths, microscopic entities flourish,
as do trout, salmon and other freshwater species.
At times fighting my current as they struggle against
an upstream battle, over ledges, and falls to spawn.
At my banks, voices, anglers flies touch my surface.
An outbreak erupts as the fight begins….
Blood at times fills my clarity
as bears harvest, gorging themselves
on never ending schools of salmonoid.
Breaking my surface, ducks geese and other waterfowl
their refuge, their source of life.
My journey continues to descend taking with,
silt, stone and other debris.
My force not to be reckoned with, yet at times
harnessed by locks, damns and levee’s.
Overhead along my travels bridges cross
from bank to bank…
At times I slow, branching out to streams,
creeks, brooks to small lakes.
As with my beginning, I end,
my mouth pours into the sea…
fresh water mixing with saltwater.
My journey is over,
but for others it has just begun....
Adding your comment:
I appreciate your wonderful comments and applauses on my poetry...have a lovely day, Ken IBT
Ken IBT